I'm My Own Master Now
by karkashan
Summary: During a mission to uproot a Venatori occupation, Cole gets captured by a Magister and turned from his purpose. He wanted to be killed should he ever be made a demon, but can the Inquisitor actually follow through with that promise?
1. Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

A musical voice cut through the din of battle and fire as Lavellan cut down the last of the Venatori in the mansion's foyer. "Dorian Pavus," said a red-haired woman garbed in Tevinter-style armor, "the pariah of House Pavus. To what do I owe the honor of basking in your presence in this humble manor of mine?"

"Rathana Porenni," Dorian almost seemed to drawl back, "what does a supposed respected Magister like yourself stand to gain from stealing a mansion in the middle of the sea?"

Rathana's eyes narrowed a fraction. "So, you're with the Inquisition in truth, then. Pity. I had thought you were a bright mind."

"I would say the same to you in regards to the Venatori, but we both know that your family are the worst sort of Tevinter supremacists our homeland have ever produced."

"Please, darling," Rathana replied with a mocking tilt of her head, "I'm not a Tevinter supremacist. I'm simply someone who recognizes the inherent superiority of humanity and wishes to see our race break free of the chains put upon us by the Elves."

"The chains put upon humanity by Elves?!" Lavellan repeated in a startled and slightly incredulous tone. "What madness are you talking about?"

"Surely you of all people have noticed, Inquisitor, that most magic in practice today is based upon the tenets of Arlathan." Rathana's lips curled in disgust as she continued. "Disgusting, isn't it? We humans have achieved so much, are capable of so much, but we cling to the magic of a people who tore themselves apart."

"And how is taking over this manor in the middle of nowhere supposed to help with that?"

Rathana tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You're right, it does seem rather odd unless I show you an example." Clapping her hands twice, a couple of armored soldiers entered onto the terrace overlooking the foyer where their mistress stood, a familiar young man being dragged between them.

"Cole!" shouted the Inquisitor in concern.

One of Rathana's hands snapped out, grasping Cole's chin in her hands. Humming to herself for a handful of moments, she nodded as she let the spirit's head drop back onto his chest. "Wonderful, a Spirit of Compassion should do nicely for what I have in mind." Turning to the members of the Inquisition arrayed against her, she continued. "This manor was built over a large deposit of ancient red lyrium, Inquisitor. It is potent beyond belief, and has been altered using a form of ancient human magic I discovered for the purpose of corrupting purpose."

A steady thrum seemed to shake the very foundation of the building as an eerie red light blazed forth from several tiles in both the floor and ceiling. The two armored guards released Cole from their grip as he began to shake and writhe as if in pain. A howl from his throat cut across the island, causing those who had been basking in what they thought was a near-victory to tense for battle once again.

"Inquisitor!" Solas spoke in alarm, "we must stop her before she binds Cole, before she turns him into a demon!"

"Sera!"

"Already on it," Sera said as she loosed an arrow towards Rathana's throat.

An arrow that bounced harmlessly off of a barrier that Rathana had placed around her body. Red lines of harsh angles snakes their way up the Magister's body in response to this use of magic. "Nice aim," was all Rathana said before turning her attention back to the task of corrupting Cole. In response to this use of magic, suits of armor that had lined the wall as seeming empty decorations glowed red inside and took up arms in their mistress' defense.

Iron Bull, Blackwall, Varric, and Dorian leapt immediately into action, stopping the blows that would've been fatal and coordinating their attacks together to push the sudden offensive back. "Go on, Boss!" said Bull as he ripped his axe from the crumpled form of the animated armor that had been closest to him. "We got this."

"There's a path this way," said Cassandra as she burst through a formerly locked door. Lavellan and the others were quick to run after the Seeker. But by the time they made it up the stairs, it was too late. Rathana had already left, and Cole... had been changed.


	2. Shedding Blood Underneath the Stars

-Worry. Panic. Cole is as dear to her as any brother. She can't let him be corrupted. Can't fail someone else. Mythal don't make her go through the pain of losing someone again, Haven can't happen again.-

He can still hear the hurts of others. Cole thought that wouldn't be the case should he ever be turned from his purpose. Strange, but useful information to have when serving his new purpose.

-Maker I hope the Herald manages to save the kid. Another thing red lyrium turned to shit. Another life ruined because of the shit he pulled-

No. Mustn't use their hurt against them. That's not who he is. His hands move to his jaw, and with a sickening snap he rips it off.

-The leadership of the Elvhen cut down to less than half due to a war on two fronts. His friend Humility transformed into a creature calling itself Hubris. Anaris-former-pack-brother dead on the ground, head sliced in two. No. Not again. He wouldn't hesitate to protect Lavellan.-

That's a good idea, he should get rid of the parts of himself he doesn't need. He's not human, he's not compassion, and he's certainly not Cole. He forms new hands inside himself and presses them into his rib cage. While his former allies look on in horror at his previous self-mutilation, the demon Malice forces itself free of the cocoon known as Cole and slithers into the waking world.

* * *

The first thing Lavellan thinks when she looks at what Cole has become is that his head looks incredibly similar to a Pride demon's. Everything else though, looks completely different to the forms of demons she's seen outside the Fade.

This demon that had replaced Cole had four arms carrying four daggers, and no legs to speak of. It did, however, have a large serpentine tail that it rested upon like a snake. Its glowing red eyes narrowed upon the Inquisition party's arrival.

"Yes, Inquisitor, it is as you see," a dark, twisted mockery of Cole's normal cadence came from the demon perched before them, "you have failed once again to protect what is dear to you."

Lavellan's head snapped back as if struck. Solas placed a hand on her shoulder while Sera readied an arrow. Vivienne's hand grip tightened on the handle of her spirit blade and Cassandra readjusted her position to better cover the Herald with her shield.

"What the shit, Creepy?" Sera said as she stared at the twisted form before her. "The hell are you talking to Quizzy like that for?"

"Valendrian was right. You're not very bright, are you?" mocked the demon. "Didn't you see the pretty light show a few minutes ago? I am no longer compassion, no longer Cole." Brandishing the four daggers, it moved faster than any of the Inquisitor's party had expected. "I am Malice!" it roared as it tried to sink its daggers into Cassandra's neck.

A shield moved just as fast, deflecting the blow away as the others scattered around Malice, trying to come at it from multiple sides.

Sera's arrow flew true, impaling itself in one of Malice's knuckles and forcing it to drop one of its daggers. Solas' wall of ice was simply smashed through with a strike of the demon's mighty tail as it ducked underneath Lavellan's fire spell. Vivienne struck with purpose, however, slicing away one of the creature's hands.

Knowing it was boxed in, Malice released a black fog from its mouth. This distracted its enemies long enough for it to slither out of the circle it had entrapped itself within. Ducking behind the relative safety of a pillar, it clenched the muscles in its arm as it focused magical energy. Within the span of a pair of heartbeats, a new bloodied hand burst forth from the stump the Enchanter had made.

-Cole. Please. I know you can hear me. This isn't you. Please Please Please Please-

Growling, Malice reached out with its hands and pulled at the Veil. Four demons of Pride almost immediately answered its call and joined the fight in earnest. "Inquisitor, stop trying to appeal to the dead. It serves no purpose."

* * *

By the end, it had taken five hours to bring down Malice and the other forces that had served Rathana. Half of the manor had burned down along with most of the surrounding forest. 40 soldiers had died in the ensuing chaos when Malice had led the Inquisition from one side of the island to the other. Malice, however, still lived, if having its tail and four limbs cut off and enchanted so they wouldn't grow back could truly be called living.

"Dammit Kid," Varric said softly as he watched over the bound form of the mutilated demon, "I don't know how to bring you back from this."

"If only you had never found Red Lyrium," Malice said suddenly in Cole's normal tone, "maybe then those soldiers wouldn't be dead. Maybe then I wouldn't be a -"

Malice's voice was cut off as Solas cast a spell of silence over the creature. "That is more than enough of that, I believe," said the elf.

"Thanks, Chuckles," Varric said in a somewhat shaky voice. "Shit, this is like your spirit friend all over again, isn't it? There's nothing we can do."

"Nothing we can do here, Master Tethras," Solas replied. "Trying to bring compassion, to bring Cole back to the surface would be futile this close to the site of his transformation. And if we we tried to forego that and end his life, the proximity of the red lyrium would likely cause complications."

Lavellan walked over to the two men, jumping into the conversation. "What would be the wisest course of action then, Solas? I won't risk the safety of any more of our soldiers, but I can't give up on Cole, either."

"There is a chance we can return him to what he was, Inquisitor, however..."

Varric sighed. "Weird fade shit."

"That is not exactly how I would've put it, but yes, it does involve the fade, and yes, it is quite strange."

Lavellan stared at Malice, a heavy weight settling on her chest. "Is it something we can wait to do at Skyhold? Or will... or will we have to kill Cole before we can get there?"

"It's possible to bring him back with us," Solas replied, "but it is not without risks. We will need to be prepared to end Cole should the bindings show even the slightest hint of loosening."

Malice's eyes, staring directly into the Inquisitor's, seemed to almost twinkle in promise of the mayhem that would result.


	3. Locked Up in Chains

"Mockingbird, mockingbird, quiet and still, what do you see from the top of that hill?"

Blackwall's shoulders tensed as he heard the voice of Malice. He knew it was going to be bad, dragging this thing with him, but he hadn't realized how much worse it could get.

"Can you see up? Can you see down?"

The worse thing, is that the demon, unlike when it was Cole, was capable of perfectly mimicking the voices in his memories. Those innocent lives had the chance to have their voices echo in the world again, and the bastard was twisting it into something fowl by using it to torture him.

"Can you see the dead things all about town?"

What was the point of this, he wondered to himself. When it was trying to kill them, it made sense for it to dig deep into their hurts. Maliciousness served it purpose. But here in this forest - limbless, helpless - what was the point? All it was doing was making them hate him, make them want to kill him in order to silence such evil speech.

* * *

"Sera," said Lavellan as she made her way to where the archer was crouching on a snowbank, her fingers tapping on the bark in a show of frustration, "is something wrong?"

"What, besides Creepy being extra creepy than normal?" Sera quipped, but it was obvious to both elves that she didn't really feel too strongly against their chosen course. "I keep feeling like there's something I'm seeing out there that I'm forgetting as soon as I look away."

"Do you think something's following us?"

Sera shook her head. "Nah. Whatever it is, I don't feel it's got anything to do with us. It's like that one alley not even the shittiest slaver'd be willing to go into, that one ditch by the roadside you just know is filled with corpses but you don't wanna look at too closely just in case your hunch is right."

Lavellan hummed in thought. "Like something traumatic happened that left an imprint in the Fade, thinning the Veil?"

"No," Sera said immediately, "well, maybe. I guess that sometimes that happens in response, but it's more like when something bad enough happens somewhere even our side remembers it. Like it wouldn't matter if the Fade existed or not, people would know some bad shit happened there and just know to not go near it after."

"There was a spot in Redcliffe that felt like that," Lavellan said softly. "Like if I stood there any hope I might've had would get snuffed out." Shaking her head, she made a motion with her head towards the back of the group, "I'm gonna double-check the silencing spell on Malice, make sure it hasn't worn off yet."

"Surprised your not calling it Cole," Sera said.

Lavellan paused. "Because whatever that bitch Magister left isn't Cole, not anymore."

"Then why are we dragging it with us in the hopes of turning it back into the less creepy version of Creepy?"

"As long as there's a chance, I'm just that fucking stubborn enough to see if it works."

Sera snorted. "You won't see me arguing with you if you're calling yourself stubborn now."

A figure of a young girl dressed in black turned and walked away as the two elves finished their conversation, disappearing past the embankment she'd been standing on the entire time unnoticed.

* * *

-Helping them find the one who was right for them, who would love them for them. Now everything's frozen in the cold. Can't even rot. Why can't she go back to the Fade?-

-Perversions of magic lasting longer than he had ever thought they could. Was mercy towards defeated foes worth it when their descendants trample over the world, crushing what they don't understand and altering what they do to serve their purpose?-

-Mamae and Papae won't wake up. The bad smelling man with no eyeballs hit them and now they won't wake up. She's crying cause she's scared and she's hungry and she doesn't know what's going on. Why won't Mamae pick her up and hum to her like she always does when she's scared? The door is kicked down, and Valendrian looks sick as he takes her away from her parents-

Those are too far away. Can't help them, bound like this.

-He wanted Bartrand to be strong. Stubborn. Just like he always was but a right bastard he was gonna kill on top of that. Not this shaking, helpless thing in front of him. He never wanted fratricide to be a mercy-

Ah, that will do nicely. A perfect target.

"Bartrand hoped you would help him before the end, Varric. Even though he betrayed you, he still trusted you to be his brother deep down. But look what you did instead. Butchered him in his own house because you wanted that glorious, beautiful red for yourself."

No. That's wrong. That's not helping at all. Why was everything twisting? Ah yes, that's right, because he wants it to. He wants them to hurt. He wants to twist the knife after he's stabbed them.

"Maker's breath, kid," Varric breathed out, "you're downright vicious as a demon, aren't you?"

"This is who I'm meant to be, brother killer," Malice replies. "Hearing the hurt is only useful if I can use it."

"I don't think I've ever been happier to see a mage," Blackwall says as Lavellan nears them. "Seems the spell wore off a bit quicker than last time, Inquisitor."

Lavellan nodded, wasting no time in casting the silencing spell once more on the form of Malice. "I thought as much. Solas, Dorian, and I got to talking, and we think whatever Rathana did to Cole when she transformed him makes it to where spells lose their effectiveness against him every time they're cast upon him."

"So eventually we'll never be able to shut up the demon who likes using our hurts against us," Varric said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Fantastic. Can this day get any shittier?"

"Demons!" Sera yelled from the front of their group, the sound of an arrow flying through the air reaching their ears at the same time.

"You had to say it, didn't you?" asked Blackwall as he dropped the ropes he had been using to drag Malice.

"My bad," Varric replied sheepishly as he squeezed Bianca's trigger. "Thought that only worked in Kirkwall."


	4. The Hunger Still Remains

-He can hear them. Shattered pieces of what they used to be. Friends and colleagues now mere remnants of their former selves-

"Make sure to keep the chains tight as you lower the demon into the molten metal," Solas instructed Dagna and her assistants for this dark task. His expression troubled as he leaned heavily on his staff.

"My, this does all sound quite painful, mortals," Malice drawled from its place suspended some feet above a large cauldron filled with liquid hot metal. "You do realize I have no nerve endings, and therefore cannot actually feel pain, correct?" Malice narrowed his four eyes. "Or perhaps this is some vain attempt to return me to the pathetic creature I was before."

-He tried to change me. How could he. I trusted him, I loved him as any child would his father and in the end that is what he thought of me.-

"Are you absolutely sure we don't have a gag good enough to shut this thing up?" asked Dorian of his fellow mages. "I'm beginning to grow tired of its constant prattle about how 'great and evil' it is."

"That sounded like you don't think I'm evil, my dear Dorian," Malice replied.

"I'm not your dear anything, creature."

"Your mustache is trimmed improperly and looks hideous, would you like me to burn it off so everything looks consistent with the rest of your horrible visage?"

"Well, I'm convinced. It's completely evil and must be destroyed."

A sigh was heard from atop the platform that looked down upon the rest of the blacksmithing area. "Dorian," said Lavellan. "No."

"Dorian yes," was all he replied, although unlike most of the time when this exchange took place, action was not immediately taken afterwards.

-It's not the way of things, her father says to her. Trying to learn from the Circles of Magi as a dwarf is a pointless endeavor. We are born in our castes for a reason-

"Ah, wonderful, a new line of dialogue," said Malice as it turned its head as much as it was able to look at the Arcanist directly as it spoke. "Your father was right, you know. Despite all you've accomplished you'll never be as great as you could've been in Orzammer, where you-"

"I am so thankful that it can't speak through molten metal," Lavellan said quickly under her breath.

"I'm curious, Solas," Dorian said without preamble, "how did you know about this particular ritual?"

-Lusakan's striken face as she passed a black book into his hands. "I'm sorry," was all the human woman said before taking her leave of the Evanuris' court.-

"Wait, let me guess," Dorian said as he held up a hand. "You found out about it in the Fade?" This caused Dagna to cough from her workstation as she did her best to hide her laughter.

"For once, Dorian, I did not," Solas replied. He shook his head and smiled when he noticed the Inquisitor's eyebrows shoot straight up into her hairline in a gesture of incredulity. "I have an old friend, a human woman, who translated an old tome of ancient human spells and rituals. She let me study it for a time in exchange for some of my own knowledge."

"How ancient are we speaking, exactly?" asked Lavellan.

"From a war between humans and elves when Arlathan was still standing. One several centuries before the fall of the selfsame city."

"That makes things make a lot more sense," Dorian said.

"How so?" asked Lavellan.

"Rathana was going on how modern magic is almost entirely based on old elven magic principles. Which, if you study enough branches of magic you start to realize they all seem a bit too similar to each other to be true coincidence."

"It's not just magic behaving in certain patterns, and so therefore they have to be similar?"

"If you've never come into contact with magic that isn't based on these original elven tenets, you would almost think so. But between the magic the denizens of the fade use, this ritual and what Rathana did during our encounter with her, it's plain to see that not all magic needs to fade to function."

"Um, Dorian," said Dagna, "I'm pretty sure it does."

"Ah, but you see my dear, the magic of the modern era is based around the manipulation of both the fade and the veil. Demons, and by extension blood magic users, don't need to bother with the veil and are barely affected when the veil is strengthened by templars and their abilities. Their magic is based around the soul, and is powered by it."

"Wouldn't that be incredibly dangerous?"

"What makes it relatively safe is that the magic used to power your spells using this method is replenished by a direct link to the fade."

"So that's why demons seem to get disoriented by a templar's smite more-so after casting a spell than if they had just appeared," pondered Lavellan. "Their attempt to replenish the power of their soul is briefly interrupted, but not cut off completely. And I suppose a blood mage simply replenishes their soul's magic via the demon they manage to make a pact with."

"The ancient form of human magic," Solas began, "is powered by the magic of reality, of the waking world itself. It is incredibly more difficult to cast compared to the other two methods, elven and spiritual, however..."

"It wouldn't be subject to the same weaknesses as them, would it?" asked Lavellan. "The strength of weakness of the Veil would mean absolutely nothing to casting with it."

Dorian pursed his lips. "It would be next to useless in the Fade though, wouldn't it? Unless of course you...no, that's not possible."

Solas shook his head and gestured at the submerged demon they were all gathered around. "And yet the evidence of all three methods of casting magic lies before us."

"The humans of old were capable of something like this?" Dorian wondered aloud. "What heights did they reach?"

"According to my friend's tome, the greatest of them became dragons unlike any other, and in their hubris forced their people to worship them as gods."

"So you're saying the Archdemons were once human," said Dagna.

"That is what the tome I read implied. Whether or not it was true would have to be answered by someone from that who lived in that era directly."

-They used to be Elvhenan's greatest allies. Now they're twisted by their new draconic forms. Magic that was supposed to save humanity from the Darkness from the Stone instead turning their leaders into tyrants that cannot be killed, only sealed away underground.-

An eerie noise echoed throughout the undercroft, like the scraping of a dragon's talons on steel plate.

"What the devil is that noise?" asked Dorian.

"Malice," Solas replied. "It's laughing."


End file.
